


blush

by blkpnk



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blkpnk/pseuds/blkpnk
Summary: "I've been on the run, just to get a moment with you."
Relationships: Park Chaeyoung | Rosé/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	blush

**Author's Note:**

> y/n = your name
> 
> re-edited and re-posted original work

Golden, midday sunlight caressed your face. It was paired with a light, salty breeze that tricked you into thinking you wouldn’t be sunburned later, but you couldn’t quite care. Not when the Pacific Ocean sprawled out to the horizon in a glittering cerulean carpet to your left and mountains sprouted up to your right, view unobstructed by the Jeep’s soft-top folded down behind you.

Especially not when a pretty girl sat on her knees beside you twisted and turned every way she could, face pressed to a Polaroid camera. Said camera focused on you, and you heard the shutter of the device taking a picture and then spitting out the iconic framed product.

“I wasn’t ready!” you spoke above the sound of the engine purring down the mostly desolate scenic route along California’s beautiful western coast. You glanced at the girl, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face at the sight.

“It’s perfect,” Rosé assured, taking the picture and flapping it a couple times as she leaned over the centre console to plant a kiss on your cheek. Warmth spread at the contact, a sensation the sun could never mimic. After a moment, she stopped waving the Polaroid and looked, smile widening to reveal pearly white teeth biting down on a lush lip in glee. “It _is_ perfect! You look so happy!”

Not wanting to remove your eyes from the road for too long, you stole glances at the picture as she held it aloft. It was of your profile as you drove, the ocean providing the most beautiful background as the sun lit up the crests of the waves. Your hair flew free in the wind, stray locks framing your face or catching on your sunglasses. It was the sort of candid picture most people strove endlessly to capture, and Rosé had done it effortlessly.

“I need to refill my camera,” she said in surprise, realizing the compartment was empty now.

You laughed. Since the morning when the pair of you had checked out of the motel and hit the road once more on your trip along the coast, she had been taking pictures. She was a natural. In her backpack was a collection of Polaroids held together by a rubber band. Most of them were scenic, as it was the sort of thing she enjoyed taking pictures of the most. A long, hilly road through San Fransisco. A palm tree dancing in the breeze along Venice Beach, haloed by some sparse clouds. The Hollywood sign nestled above Los Angeles. The ocean, dotted by figures gliding along lazy waves on surfboards. And then there were the few of things that she liked — most of them you.

If only she ever took a picture of the moment after she had stolen one of you, and then she could see the blush that came your cheeks every time. Somehow, Rosé was never content with any of her pictures unless you were in them. You couldn’t understand that, considering she was in hardly any of them, and here you thought she was the most perfect creature to grace the earth.

To prove that point, you reached a hand from the steering wheel to cup her face. Her chin nuzzled into the palm of your hand absent-mindedly, eyes still fixated on her recent Polaroids in her hands. Skin so smooth, you ran your fingers along her jaw and then up into her hair, trying in vain to tame her pink-gold hair billowing around her. It didn’t work, but when she tilted her head into your touch instead, you felt yourself falling a little more.

When were you going to tell her? It never seemed to be the right time, even now. Even in this tranquil moment, there was nothing you could say or do to show her that… that you were falling in love.

In some way, you hoped she already knew. It would make things easier. Couldn’t she tell as you removed your hand from her hair to place on her bare thigh, distressed jean shorts riding high from moving in her seat, that you loved her? That you could never keep your hands off her? That even when you were driving, it was difficult to keep your eyes away from her? That smile, those eyes. The way she looked at you, took pictures of you, made the time in her busy idol life to fly across the world and join you for a weeklong road trip through California.

It hit you like an arrow to the heart. Sadness sunk deep into your stomach at the knowledge that once this wonderful trip was over, she would be leaving again. For who knows how long. Back to working long hours with her members, producing global hits and memorizing complicated choreographies — back to crying yourself to sleep after an hour or two of FaceTime, Rosé’s presence sorely missed until your bones ached.

“Stop here!”

In your reverie, you missed Rosé finally putting away the camera after refilling it and following it by taking out the map. See, the both of you could have made the road trip easier by putting some faraway destination into the app on your phone and followed that, but Rosé didn’t want that. When she picked up the map from the airport after landing, there was no saying no. In fact, you liked the idea. It hadn’t lead you astray so far, but that might just be because she somehow knew how to use one.

You guided the Jeep off the road to a gravel overlook. It sat on the precipice of a cliff sighting over the hills unraveling to the beach, and thus the ocean. It made you uneasy, heights, but the guardrail that curved from the road to along the overlook quelled your fears. With a turn of the keys, the engine cut and it was abruptly quieter than it had been before. No wind in your ears or the vehicle rumbling around you. It was just the waves crashing against rocks miles up the beach, muffled by the distance. 

And Rosé.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” asked she, reaching up to brush a thumb by your hairline. That’s where it always burns first. “When did you last reapply?”

“I can do it now, baby,” you said, grabbing the bottle by the door. Not before grimacing at yourself for the casual use of the pet name. Pet names weren’t exactly an established part of your relationship with her — whatever relationship it was.

The truth behind not being able to tell the Australian singer, loved by the whole world, that _you_ were actually in love with her was that you weren’t sure she felt the same way. While it felt at times that this could be something real, not some reprieve from her public life, it had never been said whether or not you were girlfriends. If this is something you both wanted for a long time, not just a fun time. But she was so genuine when she kissed you, lingering moments after you finished with her eyes closed and her fingertips pressing into your jaw, your neck. It made you think that maybe… just maybe she wanted you, too.

“Here, let me.” Before you could do anything else, Rosé was leaning closer, dabbing a bit of sunscreen from the bottle onto her fingers. You closed your eyes the moment she made contact, the cool applicant pleasant as she massaged into your forehead. It only took a few seconds, gradually moving down your temples and the bridge of your nose, before it was over. “There! I think you’ll be okay, but remind me to put more in half an hour, okay? Now — give me your hand.”

Your eyes blinked open, confused by the direction she had taken. Your hand? Taking back the sunscreen from the singer, you put away the bottle in your door again and then handed over your, well, hand. Slender fingers slid over your skin, eased by the cream she had been using on your face, as she inspected your hand. You had no idea what she was doing, but that was like her. Sometimes, Rosé could be found in the clouds. That’s what you liked to call it. The girl was so dreamy, and with it, liked to daydream. You could be mid-conversation with her and she would be momentarily lost in her mind before returning. In examples like this, she was spontaneous and didn’t bother with the details before jumping in. That was okay, you liked to see where she went with her thoughts.

A hand left to dig into her backpack that sat at her feet — when her feet weren’t folded up underneath her on the seat. She sifted around until she found what she was looking for, withdrawing markers. They were slim-point coloured pens, the kind she liked to use to write and draw with. A lot of the Polaroids also inside her backpack had dates and commentary scribbled on the back of them with these same markers. Writing was faster than drawing, which made you sad because you haven’t seen enough of her passion. It was cute.

“What’cha going to draw on my hand?” you questioned simply. It had to be what she was doing, as you didn’t see any other reason for all this. Not that you were complaining. This was _exactly_ the kind of thing you wanted.

“You’ll see, but you can’t look until I’m finished,” the pink-blonde stated, laying the map over her lap like a blanket. Then she drew your hand closer, leaning over it so that her hair fell like a curtain and blocked your view. You smiled, knowing she did this on purpose, taking her plan seriously, but you didn’t mind. You could wait, and so you leaned back against the headrest, basking in the sunlight. A marker point touched the back of your hand and then began to sketch lightly. It was like you were the canvas and Rosé the artist. For a couple of minutes, you tried to trace the same lines onto your closed lids as she did them on your hand, but after a while you lost track and never really came up with a picture to begin with. It seemed the lines were too intricately webbed. You couldn’t wait to see the end result.

“Why don’t you put on some music?”

The suggestion made you realize you had been dozing in content silence for some time, the girl still drawing on your skin and occasionally shifting the map on her legs. Was she drawing a replica of the map on your hand? There was too much of it for how little your hand was, but you would see soon enough. You hoped. In the meantime, you agreed and picked up your phone with your free hand. Bluetooth was still connected, the old playlist having finished and the two of you too caught up in the drive to put on another. But you wanted to pick a specific song.

It scrolled up the list and the moment you saw it, you had to play it. Why you hadn’t yet was lost on you. It was the perfect song, for the road trip you were taking and the for the feelings it evoked. You tapped the title, leaning forward to turn the volume up a little. Not too loud, but enough that it provided a background cadence. The beat drummed up in a casual surf vibe, and the man’s voice flowed from the speakers.

“This is nice.” Rosé didn’t bother looking up from her work. Your heart did skip a beat when she lifted your hand to peck a kiss against your wrist. “What is this song?”

“ _California_ ,” you drawled. You picked up your drink from the cup holder for a sip before adding, “It’s by The Lagoons. They have some really good songs but aren’t very popular.”

“I really like it,” she said, her breath washing over your fingers. The breeze was cool and slipped between your conjoined hands to provide that little bit of a whisper to keep from growing hot. “I like his voice.”

“You could probably match it pretty well,” you mused. “When you sing to me low and soft at night — that voice.”

“I’ll have to practice then.” Another kiss, another heartbeat stutter. “Remind me tonight. I’ll read the lyrics, pour us a couple glasses of wine,” she nodded to the words that spoke of infamous California wine for reference, “and I’ll sing to you. How’s that?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you sighed. You meant it. Those nights you cried yourself to sleep didn’t happen when Rosé had the time to spare and lull you to sleep with her beautiful voice. It was never the voice she bellowed powerfully on stage. It was always this version that was huskier, more emotional, the kind that carried you away and you would always wake up the next morning wondering exactly when she had managed to put you under her spell again.

“Almost done, baby.”

Your eyes opened, squinting at the light but focusing on Rosé. She still didn’t look at you, hair fluttering, adjusting your hand into a more comfortable angle for her to continue drawing. At this point, your touch was becoming numb in the most pleasant way. Sure, at this moment, you were used to the sensation of her sketching on you, but in the grand picture, you would never grow completely used to it. If she were to do it everyday, you would still have butterflies whirl up inside you.

The song melted into another and you opened the jar of homemade travel mix you two concocted together to munch on. A car drove by with a buzz, dust picking up in a translucent cloud that drifted overhead. The gust of wind accompanied picked up Rosé’s hair, revealing your hand, but instead of attempting to conceal it, she straightened up and snapped the cap of the marker into place.

“Look!”

Rosé let your hand drift out of hers as you lifted to view it. It took you a couple seconds to comprehend the mastery of it, for it truly looked like she had just done a tattoo on the back of your hand rather than sketched it. A giant heart encapsulated the entirety of the space. Inside it was a damn near replica of the map she still had draped over her legs, but only a section of it. Without a word, she lifted the map, the paper crinkling with the motion, and pointed a finger to a spot. It was the exact spot on the map that the Jeep was parked at, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. She had taken that little square of the map where you two were presently and managed to mirror it on your skin, within the heart. An arrow pierced the heart, much like Cupid. Underneath, bordering your wrist, in neat little handwriting was the day’s date and the pair of your initials, completed with a plus sign between them. Like a couple of lovers.

“Rosie,” you breathed. Then stopped. Your mouth hung open. There wasn’t anything you could say that could explicate how you were feeling, what this artwork made you feel. You looked up into her eyes, seeing the hope shine there, the smile somehow wide yet bashful as she awaited your critique. “It’s — I don’t want to lose it.”

There were many things you could have said but that felt the most appropriate. Because you loved it. You loved the drawing even though it wasn’t permanent, just a temporary resident on your hand until the ocean water and sunscreen and handholding faded it away into oblivion. You had half a mind to race to the nearest tattoo parlour to have it memorialized forever. There were no other tattoos inking your body, but you would have been happy to have this as the first.

“Then let’s take a picture!” she said, taking back out her Polaroid camera as she stuffed the map unceremoniously back into her backpack.

You placed your hand on the steering wheel in a manner that could fully display the drawing while still looking as though you were driving, even if it was straight off a cliff. Or into the sky. Either way. Rosé took a few seconds to get the perfect angle in the lens against her cheek, and then the camera shuttered to life and the Polaroid was taken.

“Don’t you want to ask why?” she said. This time, she didn’t look you in the eyes. Even with the smile, she seemed lost in the clouds again, looking at the picture as she waited for it to reveal itself.

“Ask why — why this place?” you tried, a little lost yourself. Why what? Why all this? It was making you a little nervous but you tried to keep your pleased smile all the same.

The picture hadn’t developed yet but she tucked it into her bag. As she was preparing the next, she spoke again.

“Why I drew it,” she hinted. “Why I took this opportunity to do this. What it means.”

“Okay…” you started, your heart feeling too big for your chest, or your chest too small for your heart. “Why?”

It was one simultaneous motion. The camera came to her face as her mouth opened and she said those next words that you wanted to hear over and over and over again for the rest of your life.

“Because this is the place I realized I have completely fallen in love with you.”

_Click!_

A part of you believed she had taken the picture to justify hiding her face while confessing to you, a habit she had always done before when admitting something. Usually it was her hands, fingers spread to peek through. This time, you couldn’t see much of her features save the sheepish smile that still remained there as she looked down at the camera and took the new Polaroid out.

“Rosé.”

The girl looked up at you through her lashes. Your heart hammered against your ribs so hard you thought they might crack. It all felt surreal. But leaning forward and taking her face and kissing her with all the love that you had hidden on the tip of your tongue was utterly real.

What was even better was that she was kissing back. In earnest. The dull thud of the camera tumbling to the floor sounded, her hands grabbing the front of your shirt, in your hair, wanting you as close as possible.

At some point, you needed air and to relieve your lips. Gasping as you parted, your fingers touched your mouth, feeling the most blissful bruising. Rosé laughed beneath her breath, slowly retracting her touch just as she always had. Lingering. Not wanting to let go.

All those genuine gestures you had noted held truth.

“I’m in love with you,” you murmured back.

All this time, you doubted whether Rosé felt the same as you did. Now, you could see the relief in her features, in the way tears welled in her eyes, in the way she smiled while she kissed you again. Then she bent down to pick up the camera she had dropped, taking the picture from the slot. The first kiss had been longer than you anticipated, the picture already developed. She held it up so that you could both see it.

For once, she had taken a picture of you the moment after, when she had made you blush. What you thought would be a stupid expression of shock was actually a wonderful portrait of a blushing, awed girl caught in an ocean breeze and a love proposal.

“I’m keeping this,” Rosé decided, taking back the picture. You had no say but the thought that she had this picture of you, this immensely intimate picture of you, was nice.

“Then I want the other Polaroid, of my hand,” you replied, pointing at the bag. Rosé didn’t hesitate in reaching down and taking out the lone picture, gifting you the drawing. You were about to gaze at it and bathe in the way it made you feel when you spotted her shoulder. Having worn a camisole top and her hair had fallen to hide her masterpiece, her delicate skin had taken the sun’s glare. It didn’t look too bad yet, and to save her, you reached behind you to grab the sunscreen.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, offering more of her shoulder as you began to lather in the cream. “I was too distracted.”

A question sprung to mind, interrupting the haven that your mutual feelings had established. Brows furrowed as you tried not to let it bother you, and yet, you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

“What does this mean now?”

It took a beat for Rosé to face you, and then she was tossing her pink hair over her shoulder where you were still massaging and looking up at you. Her chin bumped over your first knuckles until she found a spot she could rest on. The way she pursed her lips told you she was thinking over her next words, and you had to admit you were worried to hear it.

“I want to be committed to you,” she gently said. “I want this to _last_. I’ll make it work between Blackpink and us. If you’d like to make it work as well.”

“I do,” you said almost too quickly. The way Rosé lit up, however, you were saying, “I do, I really do. We can make it work, even if it is just us taking trips like this. We’ve already been doing it.”

Rosé was smiling at you until she was suddenly laughing in front of you, leaning her head forward onto your shoulder. You always loved that sound and there was no stopping you laughing back at her even if you had no clue what about.

“We’ve already been doing it,” she repeated when she finally lifted her head up, wiping at a stray tear under her eye. “The only thing that we hadn’t done was actually say how we were feeling.”

Then you were truly laughing.

“Okay,” Rosé said, reclining back against her seat and kicking her Nike hi-tops up onto the dashboard. She stuck an arm out the side of the Jeep, pointing in the direction of the road again, “Let’s get back on our road trip! I’m getting hungry so we should get In N’ Out again.”

“You literally had some yesterday,” you countered with a giggle, settling back into your seat and turning the Jeep back on. The engine rumbled awake and you shifted the gear into drive, turning for the road. “Are you sure you really want to have it again? You’ll get sick of it.”

“It’s food, I’ll never get sick of it,” she proclaimed. Wasn’t that the truth. From the very first meal you had shared together, Rosé’s true love of her life was food.

As you pulled out onto the road and sped up to the cruising speed you had done before, you glanced when you felt the sense of someone watching you. You only found your girlfriend smiling back you, tucking back a pale pink lock of hair behind her ear.

The sun felt a bit heavier in the sky as you blazed along the route but it was still able to reach its warmth to your inked hand interlaced with Rosé’s.

Ahead of you lied a future of road trips where you would have endless opportunities to tell Rosé you loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> @haaggiii said “How about a piece where Rosé and the reader are road tripping together? Perhaps they could head towards the coast, in a Jeep, and see the ocean for the first time together.”
> 
> and i hope this was what you were looking for! 💕


End file.
